Lurking
by mothersentry
Summary: The biggest question survival poses is this: to keep moving or to stay put. [Walking Dead AU] [Spiritual successor to Pandemic]


"We need water."

Connor looks up from his daydreaming at Mafala, looking grim and cradling four empty liter jugs. Connor stands and goes to take them. The sun is just starting to creep behind them now, casting long shadows across the roof they are perched on and inviting the evening chill.

"I can ask someone else," Mafala says as he takes a step back. "You should not have to do this every time, especially not with a horde moving this way."

"We need a full water store with that horde coming," Connor says. "I know the way the best and will get there the fastest." Connor shrugs on a tattered rucksack and offers his hand. Mafala hesitates another moment before handing the jugs to Connor.

"Kevin wants to come with you," Mafala says.

Connor chokes back a laugh. "No. He can stay on the roof with you if it makes him feel better, but I'm not dragging him along. I'll have the axe and one of Ghali's radios and I'll be back before he knows it."

"We'll have the scope on you," Mafala warns. "Kevin—"

"Make sure he only fires if he absolutely needs to," Connor replies. He turns towards the fire escape that spirals to the ground below. "We don't need any noise drawing them this way."

Mafala nods, squeezes Connor's shoulder, and heads back to the northern edge of the roof. He grabs the axe off of a small rack by the fire escape before climbing down.

It's three flights down from the roof. Connor turns into the sun and squints. No fog for the first time since they've been here. _And what has that been, a month? A week? Doesn't matter._ Connor heads west to the water well with his head spinning.

The Outbreak, as they began calling it, began a few weeks after they had come to America. A couple of the Elders went home, most of the Ugandans stayed in Africa, but the rest of District Nine and their village decided to celebrate with the Great American Roadtrip. Then they struck a Lurker that tore the front bumper off. They pulled over immediately, discovered their victim was already past dead, and fled to the nearest town where they traveled with a few other families; they watched these people die in a horde rush three days later.

They bunkered in a college building (they thought, though Connor could now confirm with the fog cleared) with a (relatively) nearby water well (Kevin didn't trust the tap water). The campus was quieter than they had thought, which Connor couldn't decide as a pro or con.

Connor reaches the well and pries off the top, unscrews the makeshift fix on the inner piping and begins filling the jugs. He looks up for a moment and sees a long, single-floor building ten yards away. _Classrooms. Dorms, maybe?_ Connor shuts off the water and switches on the radio.

"I found something."

Kevin, back on the roof of the bunker, snatches the radio from Ghali's lap. "It better be water."

"No, another building. It's pretty close to the well, but the fog was too thick to see it before. I'm gonna check it out and see if there's any food or survivors inside."

"Connor," Kevin snaps, "just get the water and _come back_. If there's any exploring that needs to be done, you can't just do it al—"

Connor shuts off his radio, pulls the axe out of straps of the rucksack, and approaches the steel door of the hall. He tries the handle to find it locked.

"Of course," Connor mutters. He glances around, searching the wilting hedges and cracked asphalt and—yes, there, a keychain, tossed between the brush and the brick.

 _A little convenient, but I'm not going to say no._ Connor unlocks the door and steps inside, making sure to close it behind him. He can almost hear Kevin hammering the talk button on the bunker radio; he'll say he couldn't risk the noise, especially with a horde this close.

The first thing Connor notices is the silence. No wind in the trees or crying crows. His footsteps are muffled by dingy carpeting as he moves along. A hallway full of little pockets of locked rooms and empty bathroom is all he finds until Connor finally finds a broken lock at the end of one of the six-room pockets. He tightens his grip on his axe and nudges the door open.

It's a mess. Hangers are scattered all over the floor, dusty desks full of clean spots where things have been taken, and shards of broken glass sit on top of one of the two beds. _Whoever lived here left in a hurry._

"No different than anyone else, I guess," Connor says to himself. He goes to the nearest desk and opens its drawers.

Bandages, a first-aid kit, packages of dried food and bottles of soap. Connor whirls around to the other desk. More food, more basic medicine: pain killers, cough syrup, sleep aids, all between the pens, papers and books.

Connor tries the light switch, and let there be light. He scrambles to shut it off and nearly trips in his rush to the mini-fridge; he opens the door and cold air rushes to his face. Connor slams it shut and grabs his radio.

"Guys, guys—" Connor stutters for a moment, shaking his head. "I got inside, and there's—there's food and beds and supplies, and extra clothes and _electricity_ —"

"Slow down," says Mafala. Connor can hear Kevin griping in the background. "Where are you?"

"We were right about this being a campus," Connor replies. "I got inside a dorm, and there was one room with a broken lock, and they have everything. There's enough in here to last us at least a month. It's not very far from the well."

Silence on the airway. "Is there water? Is it secure?"

Connor leaves the room and goes back to the main hallway. "I haven't run into any Lurkers yet. I'll see about water. If there isn't any running, or if no one wants to risk the tap water, the well is only a stone's throw away."

"Be careful."

Connor walks a few steps before finding a water fountain. Hands trembling, he places one of the empty bottles under the faucet and presses the button. Water spurts from the tap, startling Connor into dropping the radio.

"The water runs," Connor says after composing himself.

"How do we know it's clean?" Kevin asks. The speaker crackles from the volume. "It could be contaminated."

"It looks clean to me, just like all the other tap water has," Connor retorts. "We took a bigger risk with the well water."

"He's right," says Ghali in the background when Kevin tries to object.

"I'll bring back the water," Connor says. "We can boil some if it makes you feel better."

"Oh, Elder M—Connor, you may have to wait on that," Nabulungi says. Connor relaxes at the sound of her voice. "If you are where we think you are, the horde is only a few hundred yards away. I—we do not want you to risk the noise and get jumped. Are the entrances safe? What about windows?"

"I can board the windows," Connor says, "or at least block them. The bedroom I found had its windows broken, but I can take care of that. We can tighten this place up later."

"What do you mean 'we?'"

"Kevin, be quiet," Mafala scolds. "Whatever you do, be careful. We'll come to you in the morning. Stay safe."

"I will, I promise. See you tomorrow." Connor pauses, then shuts off the radio. He goes back to the bedroom and collapses in one of the desk chairs, then spies a package of ramen in a drawer he left open.

"God bless college students," Connor mutters as he rises to tamper with the microwave.

* * *

"I'm telling you, we should be there with him," Kevin says again at the bunker. They've built their nightly fire, something they're praying will repel the horde rather than attract it.

"We are no good to him dead," Mafala says. Again. "He's a smart bo—man. You of all people should know that. He will be just fine."

Kevin looks away. Arnold puts a hand on his arm, but says nothing. He's been talking less and less since the Outbreak. If you had told Kevin two years ago that he would miss Arnold's voice, you would've politely told you, in Church-approved language, to fuck off.

Connor, meanwhile, curls up beneath the blankets of a student who's probably dead and gazes through the cracks in the dresser boards he used to bar the windows. The groans of the dead fade in and out outside; Connor has grown used to falling asleep to that sound.

* * *

Early the next morning half of the bunker sets off in the mist and dew to the hall. With the horde passed they are sparsely armed; Kevin has a rifle they'd looted and Nabulungi has her hunting knife.

"We should keep moving," Kevin says. "We'll end up dead if we settle down."

"You find us fuel," Nabulungi says, "and I will get you a car."

Kevin grunts. Arnold stumbles to catch up with them; he's dropped a few pounds, but his physical condition hasn't improved much. "We know what you mean, Kev. I think everyone is just tired."

Kevin doesn't respond, but looks at Arnold and smiles.

Connor is waiting for them when they arrive, sitting on a steel bench with the axe across his lap. He beams as they approach and stands to take Nabulungi by the arm and open the door to the hall.

"Welcome."

* * *

Kevin scours the hall for an hour before admitting it's clear of Lurkers; despite his protests, Arnold immediately picks a room to stay in and sets down his bags as a sign of commitment.

"Don't take this the wrong way, best friend," Arnold says to Kevin from the doorway, "but I think I'm gonna room with Naba. You know, since that's the arrangement we got used to back at the bunker."

"Arn, we are not staying here."

"And why not?" Nabulungi approaches from behind Kevin, arms crossed. "This place is plenty secure. Most of the windows are still intact, and there is more food than we have seen for weeks. I vote that we stay."

"I don't think our survival strategy should be up for a vote," Kevin replies. "Besides, we're going to run out of that food eventually."

"We can cross that bridge when we get to it," Nabulungi says. Finality drips from her voice. She flashes a sudden sweet smile at him and passes by to Arnold, who lets her into the room.

Kevin, grinding his teeth, busts into Connor's room. Connor turns from fastening the beams from the closet to the window, nonplussed.

"Uh, can I help you?"

"Seems like everyone is moving in," Kevin snaps. "What a survivalist you turned out to be."

Connor scowls. "Listen here, eagle scout. I don't know why you're so bent out of shape over this, but everyone thinks this place is perfectly safe—except you. There's nothing the bunker has that we'll miss here."

"Except a view. Think about what could've happened last night if we hadn't seen that horde coming."

"God, Kevin," Connor groans. "I know your pride is smarting from us leaving the fucking chemistry building you found, but that was our means then, and this is our means now. Don't take it out on me."

"What are you—I'm not—" Kevin sputters. "I—my own mission companion isn't rooming with me!"

"We're not on our mission anymore," Connor says, turning back to the rod. "Anyways, he got used to sleeping with Naba back at the bunker. Don't take comfort and sleep away from him for old time's sake, okay? I don't think your friendship is going to suffer."

"I'm not rooming by myself," Kevin says after a moment.

"I didn't say you had to," Connor replies. He jams the rod into the sill and steps back, satisfied. "I'm sure there's someone who'd be willing to room with you."

"Easy for you to say, with Popt—"

Kevin bites his tongue and Connor looks down. Connor brushes his hair out of his face and sits down on the edge of the nearest bed. Neither of them speaks for a long moment.

"I'm, um—I'm sorry," Kevin says quietly. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm just… overwhelmed, I guess. Scared."

"Everyone is," Connor says. "As for Chris, while I'd rather you didn't use him as means for winning an argument, I get it. It's easy to forget they were actually people, sometimes."

"It shouldn't be like that for us, though. He was our friend." Kevin pauses, watching Connor. "I know it isn't like that for you."

Connor shakes his head. "We did what had to be done. He wouldn't have wanted it any other way."

"Right."

Connor takes a deep breath and stands. "Anyways, you can stay here with me if you really want someone to room with. To be honest I was looking forward to having my own space after sharing a room with twenty people for God knows how long, but it's not so important that I'll kick you out."

Kevin offers a meek smile. "Thanks."

"Sure. Let's radio the others and tell them they're good to come."

* * *

A/N: so hey, remember that time I was going to write a Huge Plotted Fic? I didn't actually have Pandemic planned out, at all, so once I ran out of written entries I sort of left it to rot. this came to me one evening after crying my eyes out playing the first Walking Dead game and going down the hall of my dorm to rehydrate. this one is planned out and will actually have an ending, I promise. (this is also being xposted to ao3. I feel like an adult; in college with an ao3 membership.)


End file.
